AND I HAND MY THRONE TO....
by Giovanna1
Summary: WHAT IF SOME IMPOSTER CAME AND OFFERED KING J. A CHOICE - KEEP THE KIDS, OR KEEP THE THRONE? Yes, you heard me. This must be the biggest fic I'm working on. A mysterious man splits up all of our *heroes*. What's gonna happen to Tortall? plz R&R!!!
1. Prologue

**I haven't written a fanfic in _ages_. I know it doesn't seem like that, but it's true. I've been trying to think up a plot for a gang of people I've conjured out of the air...and trying to think of an idea for a Drama play. Has to be comedy. *sigh* Nough about me. I'll wager you didn't open this page to read about my problems. No, no, I understand, I won't beat-about-the-bush...I totally understand. You wanna read my fanfic (and it's another D/N one, heheheh) and don't wanna read this crap. I warned you - are you still reading this? How interested in me are you people? *shudder* Don't answer that. _So_...  
Oh, wait (I'll keep this short, I promise) the characters/settings/other you recognize belong to Tammy *bows in reverence* So please don't sue - besides, I read that Tammy doesn't mind fanfic - but when have I been worried about getting sued? Gods...oh, yes, I said I'd keep this short - so sorry, got carried away.  
Cheers! ~Giovanna xoxo  
  
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Prologue  
  


Aeld Larsson found himself admiring the Wildmage. Young, pretty - and with a Northern face.  
Where's she from? he muttered to his closest advisor, Peter Davidsson.  
Lives in Tortall, Peter replied in Gallan. But she's originally from Snowsdale.  
  
One of the villages in Duke Christer's dukedom, Peter said quietly. He hushed when the Wildmage approached them, her steel gray pony following meekly. She bowed gracefully to Aeld.  
Your Grace, she said in Gallan. Aeld was pleased that she avoided eye-contact - she remembered her place. A commoner never looked at a lord; especially a woman!  
You are Veralidaine Weirynsri, commonly known as the Wildmage? Aeld asked shortly.  
The young woman, still bent over, nodded. Yes, Your Grace.  
Why are you here?  
Daine studied her boots as she replied, Your king, His Majesty Trystam the Third, asked King Jonathan of Tortall a boon. King Jonathan's Wildmage was to go to all the major duchies in Galla and heal, as the livestock here are dying of some strange ailment. The Wildmage is to find a cure.  
Peter nodded at Aeld in approval. Aeld smiled dimly. You must forgive me, Veralidaine. Security here is tight. Come, let me introduce you to my best friend, Peter Davidson.  
The Wildmage finally straightened. She flushed when Peter kissed her hand.   
Peter smiled. I'm to show you to the room you'll be sleeping in while here. Follow me.  
Aeld watched as Peter led the woman away, and some hostlers took the woman's pony. _Gods, I hope she can figure out our problem._


	2. Chapter 1 - Lord Zachary of Krhandæ, the...

**Disclaimer: You know the routine. Everything/one you know about already belongs to Tammy *bows reverently* but Zachary, Joseph, the other intruders, the place called Krhandæ and the Land-Across-the-Sea are M INE. If you DARE to take those from me, then you shall be forever shunned in my stories - I'll create some characters like you and give a LONG and SLOW and PAINFUL death. Or I'll just ridicule you on my site - your choice. Anyway, this disclaimer goes on for the entire story. Enjoy!  
**

  
Chapter I  
  


King Jonathan had called his small council to him. Now, Numair, Thayet, Alanna the Lioness, Buri, Onua, George, Gareth the Younger, and Raoul of Goldenlake were sitting at the table in his council room.  
I suppose you're wondering why I've called this meeting so early in the morning, Jonathan started. Everyone exchanged irritated glances.  
Alanna yawned. No, Jon, we're up 24-sevy just awaiting your summons. Do go on.  
Jon chose to ignore her morning-sarcasm. He knew most of his small council were absolute bears in the morning. To get straight to the point, I've decided that we should improve our border-patrols. I don't want any sick animals being imported. I don't want to risk a livestock problem, like they're having in Galla. Hopefully, Daine'll figure out what's wrong before the sickness spreads.  
Numair, stretching, said, Don't you think it's a wee bit farfetched, hoping she'll cure _all_ the livestock in Galla? It is a big country, you know?  
Jon glared at his friend. You think? He sighed. She's there to find a cure. The healers can brew some potion after she tells them what to do. Anyway, shall we move -  
The king was interrupted by a _bang_ outside his door. Then another _bang_, then a cry of pain.  
What the cried Raoul. Drawing his sword, he flung open the doors. He cursed loudly when he was pushed back inside by several dangerous looking men.  
Jonathan stood up slowly, his face puzzled. What is the meaning of this? he demanded, glaring at the intruders - who all had their swords drawn.  
Sit down and shut up, one of them said in perfect Common.  
Alanna jumped up so quickly that her chair toppled down. She glowed violet. Just who -  
The stranger who had spoken gestured; Alanna was forced to sit down. Don't try to hurt us, Lioness. We'll make you swallow it.  
The small council exchanged glances. All of them were about to draw their weapons - but then ten more warriors entered the room, followed by what looked to be lord.  
His skin was copper, his almond-shaped eyes dark. His hair, which was waist-length, even braided, was golden blond. His dark crimson surcoat had a device sewn on it - a black dragon, spitting flames.  
He regarded the stunned group of friends with an air of amusement. Walking up to the end of the table opposite of King Jonathan, he threw down his black leather gloves and sat down, putting his feet up.  
This is so touching, he said after a while; his voice was smooth, with only a hint of an accent. The King and his dearest friends; the beautiful Queen Thayet. He nodded at her; she narrowed her eyes at him.  
The fiery little Lioness; I dare say that I'll challenge you to a match someday. He grinned at the frowning Alanna. It's time someone ruined your reputation.  
Pretty little Buri and tough Onua, the Queen's K'mir dogs. Buri was out of her seat, a dagger clenched in her hand. One of the man's warriors kicked her back to her chair.  
The giants, Gareth and Raoul. Both of them shot the intruder dark looks, but they didn't move. Both were extremely aware of the daggers pressed at their throats.  
The infamous Baron George. The man grinned at the ex-thief. Your looks betray you. He turned his dark eyes on Numair. And the great, all-powerful Numair Salmalín, the greatest mage in Tortall, the king's pet magician. Where's your little student, the Wildmage? I'm surprised she's not here.  
She's - away, Numair said stiffly.  
The man grinned. Of course.  
You know who we are, Jonathan said quietly. Now kindly introduce yourself, and explain why these men have interrupted our meeting, and with drawn steel!  
I am Zachary of Krhandæ, the First of His Name, Lord of Krhandæ and of the Land-Across-the-Sea, the Crimson Knight, the man replied graciously. And as to why I let my men draw steel - I'm here to take your throne, Jonathan! He laughed.  
Alanna was suddenly on the table, sword in hand. You go too far! she spat; instantly, Raoul, Gareth, George, Buri, Thayet, and Onua were beside her, empty hands suddenly filled with weapons. Jonathan and Numair had started to glow with their Gifts.  
Zachary raised an eyebrow. he asked dryly. Joseph, please make them rethink their actions.  
Immediately, Zachary's men attacked the Tortallans. They scuffled for a few minutes, but the invaders proved to be too many. The Tortallans were stripped of their weapons and forced back to their seats. Jonathan and Numair were startled when they found they had been collared.  
Those collars are made from pure iron, Zachary said quietly. Try to use your Gift, and it'll burn you. I advise you not to fool around with your magic. He snapped his fingers, and some of his men collared the rest of the Gifted Tortallans.  
What do you want? Jonathan demanded.  
Didn't I say? Zachary asked, sounding surprised. Yes, I did. I'll repeat myself, though: I'm here to take your throne.  
How are you going to do that? Alanna snarled. You and your men are _way_ outnumbered here.  
Zachary's laugh was mirthless. Few as they may be, they've accomplished their task. I now have the Conté and Cooper children in my care. I'm sure they'll find me a most amusing uncle.  
You wouldn't dare! gasped Thayet. Not the children! Leave them out of this!  
What would you have me do? Zachary retorted. Use you?  
Thayet gave him a dirty look. You bas -  
Interrupting the Queen by jumping to his feet, Zachary motioned to his men, who grabbed the Tortallans and herded them into the dungeons.   
Make sure Master Roland has a chance to spell their chains, he told Joseph, a brutal looking man. To his prisoners, he said, I'm sure you'll find the dungeons an enjoyable place; I certainly did when I was here years ago.  
  
The huge throne room was stuffed with people. Most were nobles, but several commoners had managed to avoid the strange new guards posted at every main entrance.  
There were rumors flying around. Some said that King Jonathan had been murdered...no, no, the Contés had been poisoned. Actually, the Lioness had died while smuggling the royal children out of the city. Baron George Cooper had lost his wits, and now was rotting away in a small cell. Jonathan and Thayet had been beheaded - are you joking; they're on vacation, and their best friend is taking over the ruling - but the best friend was a blood-drinking madman from the Lands-Across-the-Sea, and he had a cloak made of children's skins...  
Thus were the rumors...  
Lord Zachary, from his post behind a spy hole in the wall behind the thrones, grinned. He just _loved_ huge crowds - the bigger, the better.  
  
Zachary turned around, his smile widening when he saw that Joseph and five of his best men had brought King Jonathan and Queen Thayet. The two monarchs were dressed in their best garments. Jewels glittered on their clothes, fingers, and hair.  
You look so much the part that I feel I should bow, Zachary said dryly.  
Jonathan bristled. We don't _look_ the part; we _are_ the part. You forget, we are the rulers of Tortall.  
Sorry to burst your bubble, Zachary said calmly, turning back to his spy hole, but you're not. Not any more. It appears that _I_ have the upper-hand in this whole affair. He returned his dark eyes to the Contés. My, my, Thayet, you are looking splendid today. You are thinking that your looks will save you?  
The look that passed between Jonathan and Thayet was brief, yet absolutely convincing.  
I do not think that will work, whispered Zachary cheerfully, his smile scolding. I've seen prettier women - hell, my wife has more looks. But you look fine, anyway.  
I don't care what you do to me, Thayet spat, enraged. You can burn me at stake; you can tear me limb from limb -  
cried Jonathan, aghast.  
- but you must not hurt the children! finished the ex-queen. They have no idea what's happened -  
They're under house arrest, Zachary supplied, fingering his dagger. They have good food and good treatment. Unfortunately, my good graces are not infinite. If you - or any other hostage - pushes their luck... He brought the dagger quickly to Thayet's creamy white throat and pressed it down sharply. I'll kill them. One by one. Starting with...the Crown Prince.  
Thayet's hazel eyes were wide. They glinted with rage and hate.  
Zachary said, sheathing the dagger and stepping away from the wall. His voice rang with laughter. Shall we?  
Joseph's men pushed Thayet and Jonathan into the throne room. They sat in their thrones. The room had gone quiet.  
Thank the gods! someone yelled from the huge crowd.  
Majesties, are you well?  
Where are the Coopers? And the others?  
_Is_ there a blood-sucking lord who wears a cloak made of children's skin?  
The questions kept on coming. Finally, Jonathan stood up, gesturing for silence.  
I must apologize for the undue worry we must have caused you, he began. He searched the crowd as if he was planning to jump and hide between the dozens of people.   
So you are well, then? someone demanded; Jonathan didn't see who.  
He sighed. In health, yes. But in spirit - no. He glanced at his wife, who stood up and clasped his hand. Opening his mouth to continue, he suddenly froze.  
Lord Zachary had appeared next to him, all of the Conté and Cooper children behind him. They looked well - nicely clothed, fed - but terrified. Joseph and his darkly-clad men stood behind them.  
Zachary met Jon's eyes; the King paled, but nodded his head slowly.  
It is my doubtful pleasure, he began quietly, to introduce Lord Zachary of Krhandæ, the First of His Name, Lord of Krhandæ and of the Land-Across-the-Sea, the Crimson Knight.  
Zachary added, I am _not_ a blood-sucking madman, nor do I own a cloak made from children's skin. I love children, which is why I offer you a choice in the fate of these. He pushed the children forward. Earlier, I told King Jonathan that he had a choice to make: hand me throne of Tortall - or hand me the life of all these kids.  
There was a sickly silence in the room. Everyone exchanged nervous glances.  
Zachary turned to the monarchs. So, what will it be? The throne, or the kids?  
Thayet closed her eyes, shuddering. Her grip on her husband's hand was very strong.  
stammered Jonathan. He looked at the children, eyes miserable. His eldest son, Prince Roald, stared back at him. Alanna's Thom stared too - but his violet eyes were defiant.  
The minutes stretched out. Finally, Zachary lost his patience. He strode forward, grabbed Thom and Roald, and pressed extremely nasty looking daggers to their throats. The day is long, Jonathan, he said. But _their_ daylight is limited.  
Jonathan looked at his wife. His look said, _forgive me_. She gave a small sob and looked away. Jonathan cleared his throat, I...give you our thrones, m'lord. I give you the power of the Dominion Jewel. I give you the power of the mages. I give you...Tortall.  
  
**CLIFFHANGER!!! (I hope.) Go on to Chapter 2 for the next exciting bit...oh, did you R&R *HINT**HINT*.**


	3. Chapter 2 - Exile!!! *gasp* *faint* *gas...

**Have fun!!!  
@**

  
Chapter II  
  


Inside a small cell, way below the palace, Jonathan's friends heard a _crack_ and a _snap_.  
Well, that's that, Numair said heavily, sitting on the stone bench and leaning against the wall. Jonathan's handed over the Dominion Jewel.  
Alanna sat down next to him. She patted his knee. I'm sure the Jewel doesn't enjoy being passed around - it probably is still in Jon's hands.  
Numair shook his head with a sigh. No, Alanna.  
George made a face. Surely the Jewel isn't _that_ fickle!  
It was given...well, not exactly _freely_...the closest thing.  
Hazel eyes sharp, George said bluntly,   
Jon didn't want the kids to die - so he handed over his throne - and all its powers and responsibilities - to Zachary. It's like...succession. When the time comes, the Jewel passes from the King to his heir - the Jewel simply assumed that Zachary is the next-in-line, because Jon gave it freely. Well, not _exactly_ freely, but -  
Yes, yes, we know, Alanna interrupted. The closest thing.  
From bench opposite of Numair's, Buri, Onua, Raoul, and Gary gazed at Numair.   
How are we going to get out of here? muttered Alanna, jumping up and starting to stride. If they hadn't spelled these cursed shackles, we could blast our way out! She fingered the metal on her slender wrists and the collar on her neck.   
asked Buri.  
  
Have you any tricks up your sleeve?  
Numair hid a grin; George frowned. None. They took my lock-pickers, knife, and everything else which could have helped us out. Sorry.  
No pressure, replied Buri with a sad smile.   
There was a small silence. Then Raoul smashed his fist into his palm; Alanna looked startled.  
Raoul? What's wrong?  
Raoul's expression was full of self-loathing. It's my fault we're in here!  
snapped Alanna.  
Yes, it is! _I'm_ the Knight Commander of the King's Own - it's _my_ job to protect the King and his family. And I weakly stepped back when they came into the room. I should've fought them.  
You would be dead in five minutes, Numair said quietly.  
Alanna, Raoul, Buri, Onua, and Gary shot the mage scandalized looks.  
Excuse me? spat Buri. Have you seen Raoul fight?  
He's an unmovable mountain! Alanna snapped. Not as good as I with a sword, I admit - but a fair fighter!  
Numair sat through the enraged arguments in silence. When they started to repeat themselves, he gestured for silence. You would be dead in five minutes, he repeated. Less, actually.  
When Onua opened her mouth to retort scathingly, George shook his head. Have you seen them fight? he demanded. Onua shook her head.  
They're like...energy, Numair said. He suddenly looked very tired. They don't look like much - but they move like energy. They don't waste the energy with unnecessary movements, that's why their walk and gestures are really ugly. But when they fight... He whistled. They surpass the Shang. Hell, they don't even need blades - their _bodies_ are their weapons.  
I'll bet Lord Zachary is one, Buri muttered savagely.  
Yes, actually, I am, started a new voice.  
Startled, everyone looked to the door - which was now open. Zachary entered, followed by Joseph and two more men.  
Please, Lioness, don't move; I don't want to break you, he said in a lazy voice; red-faced, Alanna returned to her seat.  
You'll be disgusted to know that I am now the ruler of Tortall and all it's powers, Zachary said. The coronation is tomorrow.  
You can't be crowned! Alanna cried.  
Why ever not? Jonathan's abdicated.  
Because the binding powers of the crown -  
said Zachary with a grin. They would kill me as soon as the crown touched one of my hairs - _if_ I wasn't somehow related to the Conté line.  
Alanna stared at Zachary, her face blank with shock.   
With a small laugh, Zachary replied, The Contés established themselves as the royal family of Tortall, _hundreds upon hundreds _of years ago. But they aren't originally from Tortall. The family's founder, Michael Conté, was a minor lord in Krhandæ, a realm in the Land-Across-the-Sea. Before he left with his people to Tortall, he had a fight with his nephew - Brendan Conté. Something about a woman; Brendan was in love with the woman Michael's son was supposed to marry. Michael refused to change the betrothal, because, not only was Brendan an unimportant nephew, he was bastard-born. His father had been some common soldier. Dirty blood.  
Zachary continued, Brendan, his mother, and some of his men stayed in Krhandæ while Michael Conté went to Tortall. A dozen or so years later, Michael's son Jason was the king in Tortall, while Brendan had risen in the ranks of Krhandæn nobility. He was the right-hand of the king there.  
What are you saying, then? demanded George. You've given us a nice history lesson, but I don't see the point.  
You Tortallans really are thick, Zachary said. I -  
What he's _trying_ to say, blurted Numair, is that _he's_ a descendant of Brendan Conté - and since he has the Conté blood, he can have the crown, and with no personal risk.  
exclaimed Zachary, chuckling. I guess I was wrong; you Tortallans aren't _all_ boneheads!  
It just so happens, Numair replied coldly, that I'm _not_ Tortallan.  
There was a nasty silence. Then Zachary cleared his throat - this was the first misstep he had commited. Well...oh, we're getting off the topic of discussion. Like I said before, I'm the new ruler of Tortall. Jonathan and Thayet are being put on a ship as we speak. They're going to the Land-Across-the-Sea - to Krhandæ. I want to see if they'll figure out any of what I just told you. Joseph, the parchment.  
The man walked forward. Just like Numair said, his movements were ugly and restricted. He handed Zachary a scroll, which the lord unrolled and read.  
Right. _So_...Alanna and George Cooper...  
Alanna snapped.  
I'm sending you two to the Copper Isles. I'm sure they'll be very er...welcoming, as you _did_ kill one of their princesses.  
I'm starting to regret that, Alanna muttered to George. They keep on bringing it up.  
Zachary grinned. You'll be with my brother, Sir Thomas Teles-Conté. He's very nice - just try not to make him mad. He's very...violent.  
George and Alanna exchanged glances; then the Lioness snarled, What about my children?  
They're staying here; hostages _are_ necessary, you know. Anyway -  
Why is your brother called demanded Gary.  
_I _am Teles-Conté, m'lord, Zachary informed the huge man. My line - the line of Brendan - isn't totally Conté; Brendan couldn't have sons off his mother, could he? He intermarried with a cousin - Mariana Teles. My family are their offspring, thus Teles-Conté. But don't be fooled - all the Teli are dead. We just keep the name because we don't want to be mistaken as part of Michael Conté's line. Anyway...Raoul and Buri, you two are married, are you not?  
They nodded slowly.  
Both of you are going to Tusaine. My sister, Joana Teles-Conté, is an ambassador to the King there. He's very fond of her. You'll be living in her estate. Be polite - as Thomas' twin, she's a fierce, blood-curdling bitch, and you won't like it if she decides you're scum.  
Zachary crossed out the Coopers' and Raoul's and Buri's names, then continued, Gareth the Younger, you'll be going to the Roof of the World. The Doi - my tribe actually - have agreed to take you, and your wife. Your kids are staying here. More hostages; I'm sure you understand. Onua, you're going with Gareth.  
He crossed some more names off the list, then turned to Joseph. Please escort everyone to their former rooms. Make sure they pack what they need - use your judgment. Don't try to fight once you're out of this cell, he told the Tortallans as they stood stiffly. I have more men waiting outside. Master Salmalín, please stay behind.  
Everyone filed out of the room, silent in their nervousness. Before joining her husband, Alanna kissed Numair on the cheek and whispered, Good luck.  
Zachary closed the door. Now both of them were alone; he sat on the stone bench opposite of Numair's. He gazed at him for a moment, then snapped his fingers. Crimson flames enveloped all the walls and corners of the room.  
I didn't know you had the Gift, started Numair.   
It's gotten me out of several tight places, Zachary admitted. I get it from the Conté line - but, if you've noticed, it isn't blue. He chuckled darkly. I'll wager that it matches Jonathan's Gift.  
Numair shrugged, acutely aware of how helpless he'd be if Zachary attacked with magic.   
I've heard that you study many different magics, said Zachary quietly.  
I do, Numair replied, puzzled.   
But you have the Gift? Zachary avoided Numair's question with one of his own.  
Yes. I'm a black-robe.  
Ah. I am glad I collared you. If you were free, I'd probably be dead in less than three seconds...  
That's not my way, Numair admitted. But, since you've turned everything upsidedown, yes, I guess you would be.  
Would you harm nine helpless maidens?  
  
Zachary sighed. I brought my nine daughters, out of my first wife. They all have smatterings of the Gift. Unfortunately, I don't have the patience to teach them, and I don't have the time to find them a teacher. Instead of sending you to exile, I'm sending you to the Grimhold Mountains, where they have a small fiefdom. You'll be teaching them everything - from magic to Tortallan customs. You won't be collared, as you need your Gift, but you won't be free. I'll have you linked to me.  
Numair's eyes blazed angrily when he asked, And what hold do you have on me? I could refuse.  
Zachary's smile was suddenly cold. Not only am I now the ruler of Tortall - which means you _obey_ - but I also have a small lead.  
Oh really? asked Numair, praying it wasn't who he thought it was.  
said Zachary, nodding. And she happens to be working in the dukedom of a friend of mine, Aeld Larsson of Galla. I think she goes by the name of...Veralidaine Weirynsra(i?)? But you know her as Daine Sarrasri, the Wildmage, am I right?  
Numair narrowed his eyes. The Wildmage has been out of Tortall for about two months already. What makes you think she's still with this...Duke Aeld? She could be at the other end of the country by now, healing all the sick animals she finds.  
I received a letter from Larsson a few days ago. He said the Wildmage was back at his home, working with the healers, trying to create a long-term cure for the illness. The smile on Zachary's face turned nasty. Over a magical-conversation, I told him to make sure she stays there. I don't want her running off.  
Numair closed his eyes. How was he going to get out of this one?  
  
  
**Go on to chapter 3!!! »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»**


	4. Chapter 3 - Prisoner (HAHAHAH!!!)

**Here's Chapter III. R&R, plz!!!  
@**

  
Chapter III  
  


Excuse me? Daine snapped at Aeld. What do you mean, I can't leave'? I have to get back to Tortall - the King...  
Aeld shook his head slowly. Sit down, my dear. He pointed at a chair. Reluctantly, Daine sat. Her senses were alert; something was very fishy.  
His smile wistful, Aeld took a seat next to her. You can not leave, Daine. Just after you left Whitefield, the son of the lord there was found. Dead. You do imagine how it looks, right? You leaving, him dead... He had already thought of the lie, staying up late at night trying to sound convincing. Zachary wanted her here, with her will or nay. Preferably with, but oh well...  
Daine sighed, rubbed her forehead. I can stay for another fortnight, at least, she said finally. But that's it.  
That's better than I could have hoped for, lied Aeld.  
But I must write to King Jonathan. And...my friends...  
No, no, Aeld protested. No one must know where you are, Daine. Envoys can easily be tortured for their messages. Please, just stay put..._quietly_.  
Daine nodded. Then she bowed herself out of the room and made for her rooms.  
Is this weird, or what? she muttered, throwing open the doors - she froze. All her belongings were there. Didn't I pack Cloud? Weird...  
She sat down at her small desk and found her quill and a piece of parchment. An hour later, she had formed a letter.  
_Numair _[it read]_, I know I promised that I would be home by this date, and I'm not. Something is going on, Numair, and I'm going to find out what it is. Lord Aeld said I can not return to Tortall for at least another fortnight - I have a feeling that he'll lock me in my room once that time has past. The reason he gave me was this; after I left my visit to Whitefield, the lord's son was found dead. Is this a set-up? I don't know - and please don't get all jittery over me, love, because I'm fine. How are you? And how's Jon, Alanna, and the others? I have to keep this short - me sending letters has been forbidden by Aeld, and if he finds out I did so... I miss you. Keep on being you, and I'll be the happiest woman on earth when I get home. Love, Daine._  
She folded the parchment, sealed it, then rolled it up. Making her way to the window, she reached with her mind...  
-_Can anyone hear me? Only answer if you're a fast, sturdy bird. -_ she called.   
-_I am Bluetalon, -_ replied a harsh voice. A moment later, a small falcon had perched on her window sill.  
-_That was fast.-  
-Of course. Do you need help?-  
-I would ask a favor of you, Bluetalon.-  
-Ask away-_ Bluetalon replied, his tone amused.  
_-I am the Wildmage, and I need to get this message to Tortall. Now. Without any further ado. Will you do it?-  
-Of course - _ the bird of prey answered immediately. -_Where exactly and to whom do I deliver it?-  
-There is a mage - black robed. He has the Gift, so you'll see a _huge_ amount of white light in him. Long black hair, darkish skin. Name's Numair Salmalîn. If you can't recognize him, ask some of the local animals. Now, you'll find him in the Royal Palace, in Corus. -_  
The bird bowed his head slightly and extended an extremely sharp looking talon. Thanking him, Daine rolled up the parchment and handed it to him. With a fierce shriek, the falcon took off and rapidly disappeared from sight. With a wistful sigh, she watched the sun disapear - should she shapeshift and just _fly_ back to Tortall?  
_I won't risk it_, she thought glumly.  
  
**Sorry this one was so short - on to chpt. IV!!! »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»**


	5. Chapter 4 - Mage-lash

**Chapter IV**  


  
Zachary saw Bluetalon leave Daine. He had placed a tiny scrying spell in her room - so when the bird arrived at Corus, he was prepared. Summoning a strong net-spell, he gestured at the bird of prey, which was clutching a piece of parchment. Bluetalon went down with a shriek of rage - but Zachary released him after he got the message.  
After he read it, he told Joseph to fetch Numair. The mage arrived, looking harried.  
What do you want? he asked curtly, fingering his collar.  
Zachary tsk-tsked. Some respect would be nice, you know, he said mildly.  
I'll give it to one who deserves it, retorted Numair.  
With a shrug, Zachary handed the letter to Numair, who read it rapidly. When he was done, the new king said,  
She's pretty quick about such things.  
She's used to those type of situations, Numair replied stiffly. She was introduced to politics and the like when she was thirteen years old.  
Interesting. However, she was expressly forbidden to send anything, as she is under house arrest, though she doesn't know _that_ for a fact. Zachary watched the mage's face closely as he continued, I'm afraid she'll have to be punished.  
Numair's face went slack for a moment - then it darkened with uncontrolled fury. The edges of the collar seemed to be enveloped with a blackish smoke - the man's huge Gift was wild with his rage.  
When Numair realized this, his eyes rolled into his head. He picked up a slow breathing pattern and tried to calm down - impossible. The idea of Daine being punished was...dangerous...  
What are you - going - to - do to - her? he asked slowly.  
I don't know, Zachary replied, leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on the table. I think...mage-lashings would suffice, eh?  
Numair's eyes widened. You wouldn't dare, he snarled, clenching his fists.  
Why not? They hurt like hell - but they leave absolutely no marks. Yes, I think that's what I'll do. He jumped to his feet and moved towards the fireplace. He muttered a word - then the image of Duke Aeld Larsson appeared.  
My lord Zachary, Aeld greeted.  
Your Grace, Zachary replied. I have a bone to pick with you.  
Pick away, the Duke replied.  
You did forbid the Wildmage to any form of communication, did you not?  
I did.  
I have here a letter, which she wrote the day you told her that she was to stay at your place for another week or so.  
Really? I'll have to talk to her about it.  
Very good. Mage-lash her while she sleeps - make sure she doesn't know what hit her. Good day.  
My lord.  
The fire went out; Numair was glaring at Zachary, his breath coming out in gasps, as if he had been running. The king smiled.  
Dear me, Numair, you really have a weak spot for this girl. I think I shall have to send you to the Grimhold Mountains ahead of schedule, just to be safe. Joseph!  
The warrior was suddenly at Zachary's side. Yes, my king?  
Escort Master Salmalín to his rooms and makes sure he packs appropriately - the Mountains are extremely cold this time of year, I am told. He leaves at dawn.  
After an ugly bow, Joseph left the room. Numair followed him, but stopped at the door to say one thing before he exited. You'll pay for all of this, you bastard.  
Of course I will. It's called Karma.  
  
She was dreaming. Dreaming that everything was fine - she was home, with her mother and grandda...they had never died and she had never become intimate' with some of the most powerful people in the Eastern Lands.  
But then the dream vanished. Daine was left in a void - a void empty of everything except pain. Terrible pain. It was as if she was being whipped brutally...  
She woke with a scream.  
On the edge of her awareness, Daine heard the nearby animals ask her if she was all right, as they were concerned. Absently, she told them something, then got up and moved to her full-length mirror. She pulled up the edge of her nightshirt and examined her back.  
Nothing.  
_It's just a dream, _ she thought. _Just a dream, just an extremely painful dream...  
  
_**Didja like it? No, it's not finished!!! R&R??? Er...chpt V, anyone? »»**


	6. Chapter 5 - Yasmine, Jennifer, Jocelyn, ...

**Chapter V**  
  


And these are your rooms, Master Salmalín. The servants will be bringing extra blankets and your belongings shortly.  
Isabella Harper pulled a chain from around her neck and handed it to Numair. A heavy brass key hung from it; with an expression of distaste, Numair put it around his neck and tucked it under his shirt, then walked around the large suite of rooms he had been given. The theme for fief Iskold Fæstning was thick carpets, thick tapestries, and several fireplaces in each room.  
The mistress of the fiefdom looked as if she had been carved of ice. Although she was blonde, she wasn't the golden blonde of the nearby Scanrans - her long, smooth curtain of hair was more silver than gold, and her eyes were the palest blue imaginable. Her skin was like ice - cold, colorless, and suave. Isabella wasn't the finest example of female beauty...but she could hold her own against Queen Thayet if need be.  
It took Isabella several tries to get Numair's wandering attention. When she succeeded, he gave her a puzzled look.  
What? I'm sorry, I wasn't listening.  
Isabella gave him a smile, revealing brilliant white teeth. I said, are these rooms all right? I mean, fief Iskold Fæstning can't hold a candle against the finery of court, but -  
You forget, m'lady, I am in exile, Numair cut in, flashing her a bitter grin. But since you asked, yes, the rooms are fine. Finer than I could have hoped for.  
That's good. Now...what's left? I've given you the tour of the castle and the unfrozen' grounds...ah, yes, I have to introduce you to your students.  
She led him out of the rooms and through several passages, stopping finally at a pair of huge glass doors. Noticing Numair's puzzled look at the chosen materials, she said,  
Lord Zachary's daughters were raised in a climate much like Carthak's - except they lived in a jungle country, not desert. Some mages and I worked for weeks on this wing of the castle; it's like a huge greenhouse, only without the plants in the living areas. You might want to leave your cloak, gloves, and scarf here. I certainly will.  
And to prove her point, she slipped out of her thick over-robe and quickly slid into the room. After a moment's hesitation, Numair copied her, and found himself in a world of humid heat.  
He also found himself in the midst of ten-odd looms. Curious - and mischievous - eyes peered at him from behind half-finished silk tapestries.  
Isabella was saying, meet your new teacher, Master Numair Salmalín.  
There was a brief silence. Then, nine young ladies of similar build lined up in front of the looms, all smiling a familiar smile, and eying him in a way he knew _very_ well. Instead of blushing or enjoying the glances, he forced himself to think of something else, and to smile dimly.  
Master Salmalín, these are Lord Zachary's nine daughters, out of his first wife, Chelsea of Mynaar. The eldest is twenty-three, the youngest, eighteen. From the eldest to youngest, they are: Yasmine, Jennifer, Jocelyn, Alexis, Anna, Renata, Victoria, Valerie, Barbara. As she listed them, she pointed them out; Numair noticed that he could remember their age by the number of bells in each girl's hair.  
Now, girls, your father sent Master Salmalín to teach you about magic and whatever else you need to know. Don't play any stupid pranks and don't badger him with foolishness, understood?  
One of the girls - Renata - murmured something, and they all nodded. With a raise of a pale eyebrow, Isabella swept out of the room, back into the cold, leaving the mage alone with his students.  
For a moment, they all stared at each other. Then Renata tilted her head to the side and said, I've heard of you. The ladies from Corus say you're a real stud.  
Numair raised a brow, much like Isabella. Oh? I'm sorry to say I've dropped that habit. You're Renata?  
She nodded, the twenty bells in her hair ringing softly. Yes. Barbara is eighteen; Valerie and Victoria are twins and they're nineteen; I'm twenty; Alexis and Anna are also twins, and they're twenty-one; Jocelyn and Jennifer, too, are twins, and _they're_ twenty-two; and, finally, Yasmine's twenty-three.  
Thank you for the introduction. It sounds like your father was desperate for kids, having one or two every year for nine years.  
That's why Mother died. She was over worked. Oh well. Renata licked some sweat off her lips. I'm the talkative one. When do classes start?  
Tomorrow. I have to get settled in. Good bye. And with that, Numair returned to his room, thinking.  
Those copper-skinned, golden-haired, black-eyed girls could become a problem.  
  
  
...and they're in the Copper Isles; the nobility there should be having great fun with the lady, as she _did_ kill one of their insane bitches. And   
Daine leaned closer to the door, desperate to hear more. She was starved for news of home. Well, being shut up in a gloomy castle for a month and a half did tend to drain people out, but because of her need for the natural world, she was now pale and gaunt, with dark circles under her eyes.  
_I knew it since Aeld forbade me to send any letters. I'm a prisoner here - why didn't I just wake up immediately when no new from home came?_ She shook her head, brushed away the thoughts, and pressed her ear closer to the door.  
And the Contés? That was Duke Aeld; the other voice - male - replied,   
They're just fine. My master-at-arms tells me that Jonathan is having a grand time discovering his heritage. And Thayet's working on a plan to overthrow me and get the throne back; I wish her luck.  
Daine swallowed a gasp. What was that supposed to mean? Greedy for more, she shifted her ears into a cat's - even _that_ was becoming hard for her.   
...and where do you have your daughters?  
They're staying at fief Iskold Fæstning, in the Grimhold Mountains. It belongs to Isabella Harper; an ice beauty if I'm to judge.  
They have the Gift, am I right?  
Yes. Even now, they are being taught by the most qualified of men - in more ways than one. The stranger laughed, then added, I'm thinking of shipping all the girls and the mage here to Corus; I have to get started on the breeding program.  
Breeding program? Oh, yes, I remember; you want to breed super-humans.  
Precisely. And you remember what I intend for those super-humans?  
  
Good. Then you know that you shall be rewarded immensely if you find more with _her_ talent.  
Yes, Majesty. Will the Contés have any part of the program?  
Maybe. Don't forget, my blood isn't Jonathan's. My great-great-great-great-grandfather was bastard-born. But I have their children; it is no concern to me if the ex-monarchs themselves die or not -  
The rest was lost to Daine, who stumbled back from the door and sprinted back to her room, her _prison_.  
Ex-monarchs? Who did Thayet want to overthrow - _Majesty_? And _what_ man was the most qualified...  
Something very strange was going on.  
That's it, Daine said out loud, startled at how raspy and weak her voice was. I'm leaving. I have to go home; I _have_ to find out what's going on.  
  
**That's all for now, people. *ducks as someone throws a rotten egg and wrinkles nose when it cracks* I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't accept eggs. At this moment, only REVIEWS are allowed - and no flames, plz. My room is warm enough already...  
Ok, seriously. I've sorta run out of ideas for this fic (though I've worked out what Daine's gonna do) so if you wanna help be, go right on ahead. My email's bigego_13@hotmail.com if you wanna contact me like that.  
Beijinhos  
~ Giovanna**


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